The 20 Most Overrated Netflix Movies, Ranked by How Much We Regret Watching Them

The 20 Most Overrated Netflix Movies, Ranked by How Much We Regret Watching Them

We’ve all been there: you hit play on a buzzy Netflix movie and 90 minutes later you’re wondering why the hype was louder than the script. This list ranks the 20 most overrated Netflix films by the exact metric that matters—how much we regret watching them.

Consider it your cinematic hazard map, guiding you away from narrative potholes and toward better queue choices. Brace yourself; a few sacred cows are about to get gently, lovingly tipped.

1. Bird Box (2018)

Blindfolds are scary until the logic peeks through the fabric. Bird Box banks on atmosphere and Sandra Bullock’s intensity, but the story ribcage rattles with holes, leaving suspense to carry far more weight than it can bench-press. The unseen threat becomes less terrifying when the rules feel inconsistent, turning dread into a guessing game with no satisfying answers.

We kept waiting for the mystery to pay off in a way that justified the viral challenge era it spawned. Instead, it leans on repetition—hushes, whispers, and sudden deaths—without the catharsis the setup promises. By the finale, the emotional beats feel engineered rather than earned.

Do we regret watching it? A bit, because the concept deserved sharper execution. It’s a movie you remember for its memes, not its meaning, and that says plenty about the aftertaste.

2. The Gray Man (2022)

All the glossy car chases and exotic backdrops can’t cover the hollow echo where a soul should be. The Gray Man assembles A-list charisma and Russo-brother pyrotechnics into a blender, yet the smoothie tastes like plain ice with a hint of market testing. Quips ricochet, bullets shred scenery, and still somehow the stakes feel like foam.

Ryan Gosling and Chris Evans spar with smirks, each moment polished yet strangely disposable. The globe-trotting set pieces are impressive, but without a character heartbeat, they blur into one prolonged sizzle reel. When the credits roll, you realize you’ve watched a high-budget trailer for a movie that never actually arrives.

Regret stems from the missed opportunity: all the ingredients for a classic were on the counter. Instead, we got glossy calories that filled the evening and starved the memory bank.

3. Red Notice (2021)

Star power bursts from every frame, but the script is content to coast. Red Notice has breezy banter, postcard-ready locations, and heist tropes arranged like furniture in a model home—pretty to look at, never lived in. The charm trio works overtime while the plot naps through its twists.

We kept hoping the chemistry would alchemize into something cleverer than a wink and a chase. Instead, the film doubles down on laugh-track humor without the track, delivering punchlines that feel algorithm-approved, not writer-driven. By the third fake-out, even the fake-outs feel fake.

Regret creeps in because it’s not bad, just aggressively fine, the cinematic equivalent of a hotel breakfast pastry. You nibble, you shrug, you forget. Netflix’s budget flex is palpable, but all that gloss can’t hide the template beneath.

4. Extraction (2020)

Bullets sing, bodies flip, and the camera never seems to blink. Extraction’s relentless action choreography is undeniably athletic, yet the emotional scaffolding wobbles like a set built in a hurry. Tyler Rake is stoic pain incarnate, but the script translates it as repeat headshots rather than character growth.

One-take bravura sequences dazzle while the story writes itself in crayon: protect the kid, outrun the bad guys, bleed artfully. When adrenaline ebbs, the hollow center announces itself—motivations sketched, relationships tagged, depth deferred. It’s a high-speed treadmill that goes nowhere movingly.

Regret arrives in the quiet after the final explosion, when you inventory what’s left to feel. The answer: not much beyond a ringing in the ears. Spectacle has its place, but a pulse needs more than muzzle flash to matter.

5. The Adam Project (2022)

Time travel gets cuddly, and not always in a good way. The Adam Project leans hard on Ryan Reynolds’ patter, deploying snark as spackle over sentimental seams. While the premise promises poignancy, it often sidesteps complexity for quips and hugs, leaving richer sci-fi possibilities unexplored.

The family themes hit occasionally, like a song you almost remember from childhood. Yet character arcs resolve with greeting-card neatness, and the villainy feels like a placeholder in a polished pitch deck. The result is pleasant, frictionless, and oddly forgettable.

You’ll smile, maybe mist up, then move on. In a universe of timelines, we wanted the one where the film dared to be weirder, sharper, and less algorithmically tidy.

6. The Kissing Booth (2018)

High school tropes sprint in, flinging glitter and clichés like confetti. The Kissing Booth rifles through the teen-rom-com closet and grabs whatever sparkles, leaving character depth on the clearance rack. Cute moments exist, but they’re stitched to a narrative that confuses persistence with romance and noise with charm.

Dialogue clunks where it should zing, and the film’s moral compass wobbles whenever boundaries are convenient to ignore. What could’ve been sweet and self-aware defaults to squeals and slow-motion makeouts. It’s nostalgia cosplay rather than a fresh coming-of-age heartbeat.

Teens deserve better than a montage of red flags packaged as destiny. You’ll remember the booth, sure, just not the reason you stepped inside.

7. To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018)

Letters get leaked, hearts go flutter, and we all swoon—until the pattern sets in. This charmer wins on aesthetics and sweetness, but the formula shows seams that sequels pull wider. Lara Jean’s tenderness is genuine, yet the story keeps circling the same declarations like a cute carousel.

Moments of authentic vulnerability peek through the frosting, hinting at deeper flavors never fully baked. Chemistry sparkles, then dims under contrived obstacles designed to keep the ride spinning. By film three, the emotional interest has compounded into cliché debt.

You’ll root for love, then wish the script trusted the characters to grow rather than loop endlessly.

8. Enola Holmes (2020)

Breaking the fourth wall is cute—until it becomes a crutch. Enola Holmes hustles with plucky energy and a charismatic lead, yet the mystery’s breadcrumbs dissolve mid-trail. Style pirouettes while substance laces up late, leaving Victorian capers that feel more dress-up than deduction.

There’s fun in the feminist wink, but intrigue demands sharper teeth than coy glances and costume changes. The brothers Holmes loom like brand decor rather than narrative anchors, and the villainy lacks bite. By the midpoint, the case seems less a puzzle than a set piece conveyor belt.

Regret comes from the promise of cleverness that stalls at clever-ish. You’ll enjoy the vibe, then forget the clues. A splendid romp, sure, just not the kind you revisit to admire the mystery’s clockwork.

9. Army of the Dead (2021)

Zombie heist sounds like a blast until the runtime chews on your patience. Army of the Dead inflates its cool factor with neon gore and slow-motion swagger, but the character motivations shuffle as aimlessly as the undead. Rules for the monsters feel mutable, conveniently adapting to set pieces.

The casino setting promises Ocean’s Undead; instead, it delivers a jackpot of half-baked subplots. Emotional beats detonate without proper fuse, and the father-daughter thread strains under melodrama. By the finale, exhaustion outpaces adrenaline.

Regret registers as a tally of missed opportunities: great premise, messy follow-through. You’ll remember a tiger and a vault, then a fog of noise. In a crowded genre, style can’t compensate when substance is stuck in shambling mode.

10. Don’t Look Up (2021)

Satire works best with a scalpel, not a sledgehammer. Don’t Look Up swings hard at modern media and politics, occasionally landing sharp blows before slipping on its own soapbox. The ensemble is stellar, yet the message overwhelms the movie, turning characters into lecterns.

There are laughs, and there’s truth, but the film often confuses volume for persuasion. Subtlety would’ve sharpened the bite; instead, we get a meme-shaped meteor. By the end, fatigue eclipses fury.

You’ll nod, you’ll wince, you’ll wish it trusted the audience more. It’s important, yes, though importance alone doesn’t make a story sing.

11. The Power of the Dog (2021)

Craftsmanship drips from every frame, patient as a long shadow at dusk. The Power of the Dog is austere poetry, but for many casual viewers, the tempo feels like molasses inching uphill. Sublime performances simmer so quietly you might miss dinner entirely.

Meanings bloom after the credits, which is admirable but also alienating if you came hungry for momentum. Subtext smothers text, and tension whispers when a whisper won’t carry to the cheap seats. Beauty is undeniable; accessibility is optional.

Regret isn’t about quality—it’s about the mismatch between prestige pacing and popcorn expectations. If you’re not in the mood to decode, the experience feels punishing. Respect it, perhaps even admire it, but don’t be surprised if you never feel compelled to rewatch.

12. Marriage Story (2019)

Arguments are staged with surgical precision, slicing through domestic illusions. Marriage Story features raw, lived-in performances that can feel like eavesdropping on pain. Yet the film occasionally indulges itself, arranging emotional breakdowns like awards-season centerpieces.

There’s honesty in the mess, but also a curated sheen that keeps grit at arm’s length. The legal labyrinth fascinates while nudging viewers toward prescribed sympathies. Scenes linger perhaps a beat too long, as if the camera can’t resist basking in its own bravery.

Regret is mild but present—great art that risks feeling like homework after a long day. You’ll remember the fight, the song, the lonely hallways, and the ache. Still, it’s an experience many won’t rush to revisit, despite its undeniable craft.

13. The Irishman (2019)

Legendary names, marathon runtime. The Irishman reunites titans for a meditative mob elegy that’s twice as long as many viewers’ patience. De-aging tech impresses until it doesn’t, especially when spry faces move like creaky knees.

The narrative’s reflective tone earns respect, yet the sprawl diffuses tension. Scenes that might devastate in a tighter cut instead wash past in a gray tide. It’s a feast where you’re full by the second course but the waiter keeps bringing bread.

Regret emerges around hour three, the moment you check the clock and consider laundry. Reverence for Scorsese is warranted, no question. Still, cinema shouldn’t feel like an endurance test to reach its elegiac whisper.

14. Mank (2020)

Old Hollywood glitters, then gatekeeps. Mank is a dazzling formal exercise—monochrome sheen, period-perfect zingers—that often feels like homework for film-studies majors. If Citizen Kane lore is your jam, you’ll feast; otherwise, the references clatter like elegant cutlery with no meal.

Gary Oldman chews dialogue with gusto, yet the story’s stakes hide behind studio smoke. The politics intrigue more than they engage, and the structure coyly circles its thesis. Gorgeous craft, limited on-ramps.

It’s a meticulous museum exhibit masquerading as a movie night. Admire the glass case, perhaps, though you may wish for a guide who translates the plaques into pulse.

15. Tall Girl (2019)

Height is a metaphor until it turns into a gimmick. Tall Girl aims for empowerment but trips over clunky dialogue and after-school-special plotting. The central romance plays hopscotch with common sense, while the supporting cast feels assembled from archetype kits.

There are heartfelt flickers—self-acceptance matters—but the sermon drowns the story in syrup. Comedy beats miss as often as they land, and the finale shouts its lesson through a megaphone. Subtlety never even gets an audition.

Regret shows up as secondhand embarrassment for a film trying very hard to be uplifting. Teens deserve nuance, not message-first cardboard. You’ll stand tall for the idea, but slump for the execution.

16. You People (2023)

Culture-clash comedy should crackle; instead, it winces. You People gathers a stacked cast and then hands them a script that confuses discomfort with insight. Awkward dinners pile up like improv prompts without punchlines, while social commentary skims the surface.

There are sparks—Jonah Hill and Eddie Murphy can’t help but deliver—but the film keeps choosing easy targets and safer resolutions. Chemistry flickers under dialogue that feels first-draft frank. By the time the credits roll, big conversations have been reduced to emojis.

It’s not offensive so much as undercooked. A promising setup that never quite commits to being brave or genuinely funny.

17. Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery (2022)

Flash and flair arrive by yacht, waving a martini. Glass Onion amps the gloss, trading the cozy intricacy of the first film for louder satire and broader caricatures. The puzzle entertains, yet the solution feels less clever than cleverly packaged.

Daniel Craig still delights, though the ensemble veers into cartoon territory. Social-media-age skewering is fun but a bit toothless, like a roast that keeps checking its PR notes. You’ll chuckle, then shrug at the reveal’s thinness.

Regret is mild—more of a letdown than a letdown-and-weep. It’s the bigger, shinier sequel that mistakes volume for virtuosity. Good times on the island, sure, but the afterparty was more memorable last time.

18. The Perfect Date (2019)

Algorithms might have written this one and left a few variables blank. The Perfect Date sells a clever app premise, then defaults to a rom-com assembly line. Characters learn lessons on schedule, and the charm feels pre-packaged rather than earned.

Noah Centineo brings a wink, but the script rarely gives him dimensions beyond likable ambition. Subplots blossom and wilt in record time, like narrative houseplants. By the end, you’ll predict every beat three scenes early.

Regret is mostly about time you could’ve spent on a rom-com with texture. It’s not offensive—just aggressively average. The kind of movie you forget before the autoplay recommends another just like it.

19. The Mother (2023)

Maternal vengeance should roar; here it murmurs through thin plotting. The Mother gives Jennifer Lopez a rugged canvas but paints in grayscale clichés. Action beats arrive on schedule, while character motivations flip like cue cards.

The icy wilderness backdrop promises severity the script can’t match. Emotional stakes are declared rather than developed, and the villains feel outsourced from Generic Henchmen Unlimited. Lopez commits, yet the story won’t meet her halfway.

Regret stems from the sense of a stronger film stuck beneath the ice. We wanted a ferocious genre entry; we got a serviceable matinee. By the final standoff, the only lingering chill is from the missed potential.

20. Leave the World Behind (2023)

Apocalypse arrives in whispers and Wi-Fi glitches, then refuses to explain itself. Leave the World Behind is moody, beautifully acted, and maddeningly withholding. Ambiguity can be powerful, but the story’s refusal to pay off tension begins to feel like stonewalling.

Class friction and paranoia simmer while answers stay locked in another room. Atmosphere delivers; closure returns your calls never. By design, perhaps—but design isn’t immunity from frustration.

It lingers, yes, though mostly as a question mark. Audacity is admirable; satisfaction, sadly, is optional here.